Weintraub: Stewardship of the land still matters

Sunday

When the wood frogs start quacking in my pond in mid-February, I know it’s time to start planting. The first time I heard them, I thought my yard was full of crazy ducks.

The wood frogs are the first breeders of the season with incredible powers to withstand the cold. They actually have natural antifreeze, allowing them to freeze and thaw once the temperature rises.

Given how rainy it has been, we had difficulty last fall preparing the land for spring planting. We usually put down manure and mulch at the end of the year and let the land sit and allow the microorganisms to do their thing so that by late winter we can plant cold weather vegetables and later beans, squash, tomatoes and more.

I’m not a farmer, but I feel that growing food, on whatever level possible, is a skill that should not be lost. A people divorced from their food sources are disconnected from their ancestors and their history.

What farming I do shows me how difficult farming can be and how subject to the elements your livelihood is — especially when you don’t depend on outside chemicals and poisons to grow food.

What fascinates me is that when the settlers arrived in these mountains, they found the land, rivers and streams as pristine and clean and seemingly untouched by the hand of man. Living a life based on the philosophy of living for the seventh generation meant that stewardship of the land was all important. It wasn’t simply a matter of production but also maintenance.

Today many farmers like to tout how many trees or rows of crops they are able to plant on an acre of land. But there’s little discussion on how that land is rejuvenated and cared for.

Land is a living system, just like the Bible says. It needs rest and care no less than a cow, a horse or a child. The term sabbatical was first used to describe caring for the land, allowing it to rest and go fallow regularly.

When the settlers arrived, they found the Cherokee using natural organic matter to fertilize the soil, a regular rotation of crops, the use of cover crops and a strong ethic to maintain the soil. The mountaineers who followed in the Cherokee footsteps were able to stay on their land for many generations. Those who did not were forced to move from patch to patch because they wore out the soil beyond its capacity to continue to produce.

Mountaineers lived a hog and hominy existence, and corn wore out the soil without constant rejuvenation.

Robert Morgan, whose family harkens from the Green River Valley, talks about how his great-grandfather Daniel Pace was mindful of his land by terracing the land that was on a slope so as not to lose soil through erosion when the heavy rains came.

Bill Holbrook of the Bethel section of Haywood County remembers his grandfather using leaves and other organic matter each winter to feed the soil so it was ready for spring planting.

Theron Maybin, an eighth-generation farmer also of the Green River Valley, planted based on the cycle of the moon with a strict adherence to the Farmer’s Almanac but also to a keen observation of how his land lay and where the drainages were. He planted his rows so that he didn’t lose top soil to the stream, always mindful that caring for his land meant not depleting the soil. Many who don’t do this tend to be dependent on outside chemicals whose harmful echoes resonate far beyond the contours of their fields.

Joel McCraw of Linda’s Plants in Edneyville is a strong believer that what you do to the land, you do to yourself. He is so mindful of keeping the production/maintenance balance that he created an artificial wetland beside his greenhouse surrounded by plants that uptake nitrogen resulting in little or no toxic runoff from the farm into the neighboring stream. According to Joel, given that the river is a trout-supported stream, he’s mindful that he doesn’t do anything to jeopardize the waterway.

Theron was the county’s largest winner of blue ribbons at the state fair of any farmer in Henderson County. He told me stories of a turnip he grew that was so large it won the blue ribbon, fed a party in Raleigh after the state fair, and the leftovers fed another large gathering back home in Zirconia.

Theron’s motto was: “You don’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you came from. That’s why it makes sense to be a good steward of your land. It’s all you’ve got.”

Times-News columnist David Weintraub is a cultural preservationist and environmental troublemaker who runs the Center for Cultural Preservation. He is reachable at 828-692-8062 or saveculture.org.

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